


what my hands and my body done

by cthlulu



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean Winchester Needs a Hug, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, M/M, body issues, kind of implied dysphoria?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-18 10:54:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29117088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cthlulu/pseuds/cthlulu
Summary: dean has never really felt like his body is his. he and cas talk about it.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 17
Kudos: 36





	what my hands and my body done

**Author's Note:**

> some dialogue is shamelessly stolen from one of googledocsdyke's posts on tumblr, go give them some love

"Sometimes it doesn't feel like this body's mine," he says. Castiel's arms are a solid weight around his waist, his thumbs grazing lightly over the scarred skin. He hums in acknowledgement.

They're quiet for a moment. There's nothing but the warmth of Castiel's chest against Dean's cheek, the solid, quiet dark of the bunker all around, the steady push and pull of his own breath. There's nothing but Cas's unwavering gaze as Dean struggles to find his words.

He's been working on this— talking. It's not easy, and he doesn't think it ever will be, but hell, you've gotta unpack a lifetime of trauma sooner or later. He'll never be as good at it as Sam or Cas, but he's trying. He doesn't want to shut people out anymore. He's too old for it.

"Sometimes it doesn't feel like I'm here. I'm in my body, but it's not mine. It's not me."

The dark of the room has settled over both of them like a blanket.

"I'm not sure I know what you mean," Cas says, slowly.

Dean struggles for a moment, trying to fit the words to his tongue. "It's... I don't know, man," he shifts on the bed, turning to look at Cas. He holds out his hands. They're trembling. "I don't think my body's ever been mine, you know? I mean, I was always dad's soldier or— or Sam's brother, or Michael's sword... Or if not that, I've always been someone's burden, or enemy, or old fling."

He laughs helplessly as Cas captures his shaking hands, lacing their fingers together. "This," Dean gestures to his bare chest, "Has never been my own."

Cas sits up too, and Dean tries not to meet his gaze.

He shakes his head as he continues, voice thick. "I think I'm just broken, Cas," he whispers. "I- I don't know how to just exist in here, you know? I have to— I know my body like I do a gun or a knife. I don't know how else to describe it. My body— I've always had to use it to my advantage. 'Cuz if I don't... What— what's the use of having a body, Cas?"

The room is dark, but Dean can feel the weight of Cas's gaze anyway. He hesitates, words on his lips threatening to spill over, and when he does speak, his voice is thin, ready to snap. "You know, when I found out I was his vessel... It just made sense." His voice is quiet, barely there. "It all just made sense."

He confesses, "This isn't mine, Cas."

And he shatters.

The tears spill over, rolling down his cheeks and landing on the covers in fat drops. His breath hitches, stumbles in his chest over and over, and Cas pulls him into an embrace, soft and warm. Dean's hands skirt over Cas's arms, his back, his shoulders as he sobs. It's a wild, abandoned thing, the way he does it. Dean Winchester has never done anything by halves. His whole body shakes with the force of it, and he fists his hands in the back of Castiel's ratty t-shirt, trying to find something, anything, to ground him.

"So many people," he chokes out, sobs tearing from his vocal cords like shrapnel. "So many people and ideas and— and _things_ have been inside this body, Cas, but none of them are _me_."

"It's not mine," he repeats in between wet, shuddering breaths. "It's never been mine. How do I— what do I do with it now, Cas?"

Castiel pulls back slightly, pressing his forehead against Dean's. The other man's breaths slowly even out, still hiccupping in small bursts as the emotion makes its way out of his body, and he clings to Cas like a lifeline. Cas's hands are warm where they wipe away the tear tracks.

Dean breathes deep, entire body trembling in an effort to pull back together. "It's all over, sweetheart," Dean says weakly. "We don't have to fight anymore and— and I don't think... I don't think I know how. I don't know how to just be."

Cas kisses him then, warm and sweet. When Dean finally meets his gaze, are are unshed tears pooling in the angel's eyes, and Dean reaches up, shakily, to press a kiss to his forehead.

"I... don't know if I know how either," Cas admits. His voice is soft and steady, thick with emotion. "I've always been a warrior. But, I think... I think we're allowed to figure this out together. We have time, Dean."

Dean laughs weakly, wet lashes still warm against his skin. "Yeah. Didn't think we ever would, but yeah. We do."

Cas continues, "I can't say I understand... what you're feeling. This vessel was made to contain me— It's always been like a second home, an extension of my form. After all these years, I think I've grown more accustomed to this body being... my own. I don't think there's a trace of Jimmy Novak left, anymore."

"But," Cas says, "You get to exist now, Dean. You are allowed to experiment."

He catches Dean's gaze and holds him there. "You get to make your body your own. I think you've more than earned the opportunity to do that."

Dean fidgets under Cas's intense gaze, but eventually a small smile fights its way out from under the tears. He lets out a laugh then, too, and it sounds more like a sob than anything else, but there's genuine warmth in his eyes when he presses a kiss to their intertwined hands.

They lay back down, the thick quilt still warm and soft under them. Dean lets himself collapse against Cas's chest, and when the angel winds his arms around Dean's torso, he lets himself be held.

The steady dark of the room has not changed. Nothing feels different or stilted after his confession, except maybe the feeling in his fingertips as he traces promises into Castiel's skin, or the warmth in his chest as he presses kisses against his collarbone. The dark curls around them, soft and protective, comforting in its weight.

Cas is almost about to slip back under the blanket of sleep when he hears Dean mumble into the silence of the room, "Maybe I'll get my ears pierced."

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this at 2 am, passed out, and then rewrote it when i woke up because i kinda liked it. i have no idea where it came from but i had fun so  
> i'm always a slut for kudos!  
> come yell at me on tumblr @eyelinerdean


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